


The Prince and his General

by EldOchFlamma



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternative Universe - Historical, Alternative Universe - Samurai, Fluff, Hashirama the seductress, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Questionable Teaching Methods, Romance, UST, Uchiha Izuna - Freeform, honourable mentions of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24751978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldOchFlamma/pseuds/EldOchFlamma
Summary: Hashirama is the firstborn son of the daimyo of the Land of Fire. He likes bonsai trees, flower arrangements - and gambling his father's money away. After a night of drunken revelry he injures himself and is unable to make it back home on his own. As luck would have it, his father generously sends his best general out in search for his wayward son. Hashirama, immediately smitten, embarks on a mission to discover what lies behind the stern face of one Uchiha Madara...
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 110
Kudos: 189





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was inspired by Smithsan's beautiful art here: https://twitter.com/smith_san26/status/1103898605247651843?s=20

Hashirama was the eldest son of the ruling daimyo of the Land of Fire, as kind, virtuous, and handsome as they came. He was well-loved by his father’s subjects for his easy-going personality and refusal to punish mistakes. He was also his father’s eternal headache: showing no interest in anything stately, Hashirama loved to cultivate bonsai trees, arrange flowers, and gamble his father’s money away with his friends. No matter how often he had been chastised for his lack of discipline, Hashirama had found a way to get back into his father’s good graces and was allowed to continue on living an easy life.

That might have been supported by the fact that his younger brother Tobirama was his polar opposite – cool, collected and very astute, he was already considered a scholar at a young age for his quick wit and the fastidious work he supplied. With a man like him for support, even placid Hashirama would succeed at ruling in the future. Tobirama loved his brother, but there weren’t many things they shared, least of all Hashirama’s habitual get-togethers with young noblemen his age. He would be invited to their estates, and the young men would drink the finest sake and have beautiful women play music for them, gambling for their favour throughout the night.

All in all neither something Tobirama would consider particularly fun, nor suitable for a man of his station. Hashirama on the other hand loved those nights – he enjoyed gambling, the thrill of a good game, and he thrived in the company of friends, feeling most at ease when they were all laughing together and enjoying a good time. He could also appreciate the fine arts of music played well and dances performed right, and as crown prince it wasn’t surprising that he got to enjoy only the best of both.

Stumbling out into the dark after one of those nights, the rambunctious laughter of the last remaining party goers behind him, Hashirama took a deep breath of the cool air. From the way the sky was coloured their get-together had lasted well into the early hours of the morning, but it wasn’t the first time Hashirama was making his way back to the palace while still drunk. The celebration had left him in high spirits, and he whistled happily as he took the paved path down to the city’s edge. 

In the early light of the morning he suddenly spotted a bright orange cat marching over the field on the other side of the road, probably hunting for its breakfast, and Hashirama immediately decided he needed to pet it.

“Hey kitty! Puss puss, here!” he cried, clumsily running in its direction, laughing when the cat turned its head to look for the source of the ruckus.

“Oooh, so cute! Wait for me, kitty!”

Not watching is steps, Hashirama didn’t notice the edge of the road, and ended up tumbling face first into the ditch marking the barrier between pavement and field. He was shocked breathless at first, and then whined and groaned at his misfortune. His limbs being clumsy from drinking, it took him a while to push himself upright, enough so he could just barely see over the edge of the dirty soil he sat on. The cat, of course, was gone by that point, but the dizziness remained, escalating the hungover headache Hashirama had to painful levels. Deciding to rest his eyes really quick, Hashirama unwittingly ended up falling asleep right where he was. 

At least a couple hours must have passed, because by the time Hashirama opened his eyes again the sun was burning down on him mercilessly. His mouth felt like something had died in it, and he squinted his eyes at the unforgiving brightness, groaning in pain. His back ached terribly, and he felt cold and damp. Something pulling at his head startled him, and when he turned his head he saw a pigeon was pecking at his hair, probably wanting to take some for a nest. Laughing at his special alarm, Hashirama pushed himself up into a sitting position, confused about his surroundings for a moment until he remembered the last night.

“Father will have my head if I’m not home by lunchtime,” he whined, realising the time, and held onto the damp wall of the ditch with a grimace, pulling himself up – and promptly falling back on his bottom with a cry of pain. “Oww… my ankle…”

Moving into a more comfortable position, Hashirama tugged up the hem of his hakama, inspecting his aching right foot. He poked around the ankle carefully, flinching at the pain and recognised the tell-tale swelling around the bone. He must have somehow injured himself when he landed in that ditch, he realised, biting his bottom lip in worry. He was also missing a sandal. Knowing he had no choice but to attempt to get home anyway, Hashirama clenched his teeth and tried his hardest to find balance on just one foot, but making it out of the ditch like that was sheer impossible.

He tried anyway, but only ended up right where he had started, clothes dirty and torn and tears welling in his eyes from the pain of moving his sore foot about. Wiping at his eyes with the back of a soiled hand, Hashirama sniffled in frustration. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten himself into this mess – Tobirama would give him a piece of his mind about it later, he just knew it, not to mention his father. Hashirama would be lucky if he’d be allowed to go out again this month.

Hashirama’s head jerked up when he suddenly heard his name being called – his father must have sent someone out to look for him! He was saved!

“Here!! I’m here! Help!” he cried, waving his arm pitifully, hoping it would be seen over the edge of the ditch. “I’m down here! Please, help!”

The clattering of hooves got louder, signalled the arrival of a rider, and Hashirama did his best to push himself up higher, still waving, but the damp soil made him slip with a yelp.

“Here!” he called again, hoping he had been spotted when he heard footsteps coming closer. 

Hashirama was so grateful that someone had found him, he didn’t even care who they were. The first thing he noticed about the man was the bright red lacquered armour he wore, as well as the daimyo’s emblem, which was an immediate relief – it really was one of his father’s men, he would get him home safe! When his eyes travelled up to the man’s face, his breath caught in his throat. He was gorgeous; tall with an imposing build, and with the sun at his back his long black hair looked like it was on fire. He had stern features and an air of authority about him, and Hashirama wondered how he’d never seen him before. Surely if he’d spotted a man like that in his father’s court he would have remembered him?

“There you are, Hashirama-sama,” his rescuer said exasperatedly. “The daimyo has sent me to find you, since you did not present yourself at the morning audience.”

Whimpering softly, Hashirama could already imagine the lecture he would receive, but at the moment he was very much distracted by the velvety voice of the divine being standing over him. And he needed a good excuse, of course.

“Well, you see, I was unable to make it, because… I was… uh… inspecting the road,” he grinned innocently. “Important work, that.”

“Inspecting the road,” the man snorted, raising an eyebrow at him, and Hashirama felt his cheeks heat up unwittingly.

How did that man manage to fluster him so easily? He couldn’t let him win just like that!

“Yes. I was. Now I’m all finished, though, so if you would kindly lend me a hand…”

With a near inaudible sigh the man kneeled down and extended a gloved hand towards him, which Hashirama grasped eagerly and clung to as he tried to get up. Having completely forgotten about his injured foot though, Hashirama teared up again the moment he put weight on it, relinquishing his hold with a hiss.

“Are you injured?” his rescuer inquired immediately, and Hashirama nodded sadly

“I must have broken my ankle when I f- I mean… while inspecting…” Hashirama mumbled.

Without paying attention to his feeble excuse, the man clambered down into the ditch with him, grasping Hashirama’s foot with deft hands and inspecting the injury, making the flush return. Hashirama was very aware of how his hakama was slipping down, revealing the curve of his calve to the observant black eyes of his rescuer. Brows pulling down with a frown, the man carefully let go of his foot again, and then boldly lifted Hashirama into his arms, standing up as if he weighted nothing. Hashirama squealed in shock, staring into his unfathomable eyes with a sudden shyness.

“Just hold on tight, Hashirama-sama,” the man murmured, and his tone sent a shiver down Hashirama’s spine. “I’ll get you home.”

Hashirama nodded, cheeks still wet from the pain his ankle was causing, and carefully reached out to cling to his breastplate for balance. Up close like this he now had the chance to get a better look at the man, and Hashirama realised he could not be much older than him. The sliver of his face which was not obscured by thick locks was youthful and striking, with a high cheekbone and arched brows, a slender nose and soft-looking lips.

His stomach fluttering, Hashirama realised that his rescuer was not just devastatingly handsome and confident, but also incredibly strong. His arms did not budge an inch as he hefted Hashirama a little higher and then proceeded to carry him out of the ditch, taking care not to jostle him too much. He carried Hashirama over to the horse he’d arrived on, which stood patiently waiting for its master.

“Let’s get you on there. Grab onto the saddle,” he ordered Hashirama, who did as he was told immediately, cheeks heating up again at how daringly the man commanded him. “Now pull while I lift you up.”

He grabbed Hashirama’ waist with both hands and lifted him like he was one of the delicate maidens he had watched dance last night, and not the tall man he thought of himself as, setting him onto the back of his horse. Then he mounted behind him, taking hold of the reigns, which meant Hashirama was boxed in between his strong arms and wouldn’t fall off. He was certain he’d not felt so flustered since he was fourteen and had his first crush. Hashirama knew he needed to know more about this rescuer of his, who had the voice and face of a divine being, and clearly the strength of a beast.

“Y-you haven’t told me your name,” he realised, nervously tucking some of his wayward hair behind his ear and looking at his rescuer from under his lashes.

He got another raised eyebrow for his question in return, and the audacity of the man should have bothered him more than it did. A cute face would let you get away with a lot, really.

“Forgive me, your highness, I did not realise you didn’t know who I was,” was the curt answer Hashirama got, and clearly the man didn’t make any effort to hide his sarcasm. “I’m Uchiha Madara, general of your father’s first regiment.”

It then dawned on Hashirama why he’d gotten such responses – of course the general would have expected him to know who he was! Clearly Hashirama’s lack of knowledge was shameful for a man in his position – and on top of that he must think of him as a coddled idiot for landing in a ditch! Hanging his head in embarrassment Hashirama was acutely aware of general Uchiha’s movements as he tugged on his horse’s reigns and urged it into a gentle trot, directed them homewards.


	2. Chapter 2

The way back to the castle was mostly silent. Hashirama was still wallowing in self-pity because he had embarrassed himself so thoroughly in front of the general and didn’t dare open his mouth again for the longest time. Eventually he collected himself, finding the other’s presence both reassuring and calming, and Hashirama’s natural curiosity won out. He started watching general Uchiha from the corner of his eyes, intrigued by his expressionless mien, as he still somehow managed to look intimidating. Hashirama definitely did not want to find out what kind of expression he would make when he got angry. But what about when he was… happy? Or amused? Or… dare he think it… in the throes of passion?

Growing flustered once more he quickly turned his head away, looking out over the street. Now that they were back in the perimeters of the city and approaching the palace, there was much more activity around them. Merchants were busy selling the wares from their shops, children and their mothers were weaving through the crowd, calling out to each other when they spotted familiar faces. Hashirama couldn’t help smiling fondly – he loved the city and its people, loved their food and drink and laughter, and sometimes he yearned to be part of them, just another face in the crowd, living his life freely.

“We are about to arrive, Hashirama-sama,” general Uchiha’s smooth voice pulled him from his musings.

“Yes, I – ah –“ Hashirama stammered, looking back at him and once again swooning a little at the sight of his striking face.

“With your leave, I will take us to the east courtyard,” the general continued, unaware of Hashirama’s struggle. “That will take us closest to your quarters.”

“… you know where my rooms are?” Hashirama blurted out before he could make his mouth pause so his brain could catch up, turning scarlet again immediately under the general’s gaze.

Now he was looking at him like one would look at an especially simple-minded dog, who could not be made to memorise the easiest tricks.

“The defence of the castle grounds is part of my responsibilities, Hashirama-sama,” general Uchiha told him slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching momentarily as if he was suppressing a smirk. “So I do, indeed, know where your quarters are. In case you do not trust my capabilities, feel free to direct me.”

That last sentence was added after a pause, and Hashirama could have sworn he was being mocked, but he was too busy trying to find a way to evaporate into thin air to be offended. How did he always manage to say such embarrassing things? When he’d just resolved to not make matters worse? Luckily it didn’t take them much longer to arrive at their intended destination, which meant less time for him to say stupid things, and by then Hashirama’s breathing exercises had returned him to a calmer state of mind. He could do this. He would make it inside his room without another hitch!

They had naturally been spotted the moment they arrived at the castle gates, and when they got to the east courtyard a small throng of people was waiting for them. Hashirama recognised his personal servants, but also two of his cousins and friends, waving at them as they approached. Then he noticed his brother, whose face was pinched into a frown of epic proportions, and Hashirama cringed a little. Tobirama would chew him out for this, he just knew it, and the worst of it was that it would be well-deserved.

Bringing his horse to a halt, general Uchiha dismounted with ease, handing the reigns to the closest servant before holding out his arms for Hashirama to grasp. It hit Hashirama then that he had a broken ankle and would not be able to walk, and he could not believe he had not thought about the pain once throughout the journey. He also had no idea how he would be getting to his rooms, but maybe… if he was very lucky… Clearing his throat awkwardly and ignoring how hot his cheeks felt, he took hold of the general’s shoulder, slowly sliding off the horse’s back and right into the waiting arms of his gallant saviour.

This naturally prompted distressed inquiries about his health, but general Uchiha’s impressively stern face came as an advantage here. He ordered the servants to immediately send the palace doctor to Hashirama’s quarters, and his poor subjects cowered under the sheer force of his dark stare, following his orders immediately and making way for the general as he took brisk steps up the stairs towards the castle’s east wing. This naturally did not work on Tobirama, who planted himself right in the middle of the top landing, arms crossed and displeasure palpable.

“What is the matter with my brother?” he demanded, and Hashirama could have sworn the arms around him tightened briefly.

Before he could open his mouth though, the general was already answering for him, his tone giving nothing away of the minute reaction only Hashirama would have been able to feel.

“Hashirama-sama has injured his foot during the course of the night and was therefore unable to return to the castle unaided. I shall bring him to his quarters so that he may be seen by the doctor and find some rest,” he narrated Hashirama’s nightly mishap, being unexpectedly but generously vague with his interpretation of events.

Tobirama narrowed his slanted eyes further, and the result was spectacularly menacing, causing Hashirama to duck his head a little, subconsciously pressing closer to the comforting presence next to him. But his brother had reigned in his irritation in the face of his injury, and merely nodded his consent.

“Proceed,” he stated simply.

“Tobirama-sama,” general Uchiha answered blandly, inclining his head just barely, and Hashirama could have sworn it was done on purpose, for surely he could have paid his brother proper respects, even with his arms full?

He didn’t bother pondering about that any further though as the general started moving again, jostling Hashirama just a little bit and making him acutely aware of how his arms felt around him – one tucked securely under his knees, the other supporting his back. He really did not seem to mind his weight one bit, even though the distance to Hashirama’s quarters was significant. His breathing was steady, and his eyes directed firmly forward, leaving Hashirama to fantasise about the kinds of things a man with strength like that could do. Surely, if he could carry him so easily, he would also be able to hold someone up against a wall during –

They arrived at Hashirama’s rooms too early for his liking, a servant opening the doors for them. General Uchiha didn’t bother asking for directions, he boldly marched straight through all of his chambers and into his bedroom, leaving Hashirama flustered at his daring. He kneeled down fluidly and deposited Hashirama onto the futon that had been laid out for him, gently lowering him down so as to not aggravate his aching foot further.

He paused then, and Hashirama belatedly realised he was still holding on to the general’s breastplate, effectively hindering him from getting back up. He laughed nervously to hide his blush and loosened his hold, and the general pulled back, standing up smoothly and backing off towards the side of the room courteously. And Hashirama – he immediately missed the feeling of those strong arms around him, holding him, and had to bite his lip to distract himself from those unbecoming thoughts. The doctor chose that moment to arrive, and general Uchiha bowed formally to Hashirama.

“With your permission, I will take my leave now to inform your father of your safe arrival,” he said softly, and it was less a question waiting for Hashirama’s approval than it was a statement, and Hashirama couldn’t help but be enticed by the lack of subservience in his demeanour.

“You have my permission, general,” Hashirama smiled up at him anyway. “Without you, I don’t know how I would have made it back home.”

General Uchiha tilted his head politely, and the corners of his eyes crinkled the slightest bit in amusement.

“I am honoured to be of service,” he said, and his voice sounded an octave lower than before, causing a shiver to run down Hashirama’s spine and goose bumps to rise on his arms. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Hashirama-sama.”

He left with the unassuming quiet air of a man who would not be out of place no matter where you put him, and left Hashirama to stare after him with unabashed longing. From this angle it was easy to appreciate his secure stride and his wide shoulders, leading down to a trim waist, making Hashirama wonder what it would be like to wrap his arms around him, or his legs, to feel those firm muscles as they moved, pressing between his thighs, bold and unrelenting… He shivered again, licking his suddenly dry lips.

Distracted from his woes by the doctor, who had set up all his equipment in the time Hashirama had taken to daydream about his saviour, he suffered through the procedure of getting his foot set properly, relieved to hear that it wasn’t broken, just sprained badly. Part of Hashirama was glad the general wasn’t there to hear that; it would surely just make him look even more weak-minded in his eyes. The pushing and prodding were still painful though, and Hashirama was glad when it was over. The doctor prescribed him a salve and bed rest for the next three days, with the express ban from moving his foot under any but the direst of circumstances, which did sound very appealing just then.

After that was done, Hashirama sent his servants to fetch some tea and a late lunch for him, so that he could then be left to rest. He would need time to gather his thoughts in preparation for Tobirama’s lecture, which he was sure would come sooner than he would have it, as well as the overdue audience with his father, who would most certainly be even less impressed with him than his brother.

And then he needed to find out more about general Uchiha Madara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all the people commenting on the first chapter! I had the kindest reception I could have asked for!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the second chapter just as much!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Avo for the wonderful fanart for this chapter!! It can be found at: https://twitter.com/avocado__kun/status/1272591161958428673?s=20

Hashirama was exhausted. It was the second morning after his unfortunate accident and being stuck in bed was just not what it was made out to be. He was bored out of his mind, stretching his hands over his head and groaning as his spine popped. Yes, he was propped up on an ungodly number of pillows, but his range of motion was not huge, and there was so little he could do to pass the time. He would even welcome his brother coming back and shouting at him some more, like he’d done two days ago, and that, if nothing else, showed how dire the situation was.

On the day of his return, Tobirama had left him be until the early hours of the evening before coming for Hashirama, interrogating him heartlessly and then tearing into him mercilessly when he realised just how depraved Hashirama had behaved. It wasn’t like he didn’t agree with his little brother – getting drunk and falling into a ditch were definitely not appropriate behaviours, and Hashirama was very aware of the risk he had put himself at, and in consequence also the country. But Tobirama didn’t understand how important it was for him to connect with others. If he were to be stuck in a library all day, then he would wilt like a plant without water, surely!

His father, the daimyo, had waited until the next morning to summon him, a kindness Hashirama attributed to his injury alone. He’d felt like sinking into the floor when his servants had brought a narimono for him, insisting he use it, since he wasn’t allowed to walk, and reaching the throne room would have been very difficult otherwise. Hashirama had flat out refused, but just getting dressed properly posed a bigger challenge than he’d expected with only one foot to balance on. So eventually he had to capitulate before the facts, letting his servants help him climb into the narimono and enduring being carried through the palace like a pampered princess.

Now, he might not have minded the carrying part so much had it been a certain general fulfilling the task… but that had sadly not been an option for Hashirama to select.

Facing his father after he had to send out his general specifically to collect Hashirama… wasn’t easy. Butsuma was no stranger to critiquing his firstborn son, but the disappointment on his face had made even Hashirama feel more than a little contrite. He had to do a lot of grovelling and utilise every one of his diplomatic skills to convince his father that he could see the error of his ways and was indeed sorry. As a punishment Hashirama would not be leaving the palace for no less than six months and would have to hand in essays on topics of philosophy and ethics every single week. And it was made very clear to him that if it weren’t for his injury, that punishment would have been much more severe.

Thoroughly reprimanded and head bowed in shame, Hashirama had been carried back to his rooms and had henceforth been left to wallow. Sure, he’d gotten a whole waggon load of scrolls delivered to him so he could make himself useful, but one could only do so much reading in a day without one’s brain turning to mush. Tobirama surely just… functioned differently than him, Hashirama couldn’t help but conclude.

What bothered Hashirama more than the mind-numbing essays he would have to write was the fact that he had been practically unable to gain any more information on general Uchiha. He hadn’t dared ask his brother for fear of having to listen to another (deserved) rant about his reckless lack of interest in the matters of state. Hashirama’s servants might have been able to come up with something interesting, but he had hesitated to send them out for something as menial as gossip, especially since there was little way of proving any of the rumours to be actually true.

What Hashirama had done, after agonising over the decision for hours, was to send an invitation to the general. He figured the easiest way to gain information was… to actually speak to the man in question, even though the mere thought of having those dark, piercing eyes resting on him made Hashirama feel unreasonably nervous. He owed the general a proper thank you for his efforts, and so he had a perfect excuse to want to see him. It would be a chance to show that he was not just a disaster drunk who couldn’t put one foot in front of the other, but courteous and appreciative of the work of his father’s men, like a prince should be. General Uchiha never had to know that not all of his intentions were rooted in curtesy.

Now if only he would actually come.

Hashirama had written out a formal letter right after returning from the audience with his father and sent a servant to deliver it to the general. Now, it wasn’t that he’d specifically cited the man to come see him immediately, but he hadn’t gotten a reply until the late evening. Not that Hashirama had been counting the hours, but he’d just… noticed. Because most people showed a little more enthusiasm at the chance of attending a private audience with the daimyo’s firstborn son.

Sighing as he rolled over onto his side, Hashirama snuggled his cheek into a purple silk cushion and let his mind wander. Whenever he did that lately, no matter what he chose to muse about, he would arrive at the same point – Uchiha Madara. Huffing into the sleeve of his yukata, Hashirama couldn’t help remembering the feeling of being held in his arms. He didn’t know why that specific memory stood out so prominently. Maybe it was because Hashirama hadn’t been carried by anyone in years. He was a grown man, and therefore it was highly inappropriate for anyone to even consider doing it.

And yet… the ease with which the general had picked him up and cradled him in his arms, the intimacy of the gesture… There hadn’t been a moment of doubt in the man’s demeanour, he’d seen a way to help and acted immediately. For a short while, Hashirama had been able to be just himself, as fallible and soft as he was. He’d had no choice but to rely on the general completely, to put his trust in him and be led, and he had not been disappointed. Hashirama’s stomach clenched with longing to feel that way again.

“Hashirama-sama?” his manservant interrupted his daydreaming. “General Uchiha is here to see you, as you requested.”

Blinking while his brain processed that information, Hashirama couldn’t believe his ears at first. Finally! He gasped and scrambled up onto his knees, wincing when his bandaged foot caught in a fold of his yukata.

“Send him in,” he called over his shoulder, cursing under his breath as he urgently piled his cushions up into something that might support his back properly.

Hashirama settled against the makeshift backrest, finger-combing his long hair behind his ears as he tried to re-arrange himself to look more presentable. He pulled a thin silk blanket over his legs to cover the gap of his yukata, tugging at the neckline to make sure it was in place and didn’t make him look indecent. He hoped there were no pillow folds on his cheeks – now that would be terrible! Looking around for his hand mirror and not finding it, Hashirama had to hope for the best as he could hear the soft footfall of his servant returning with his guest. Clearing his throat one last time, he schooled his face into what he knew to be a pleasantly neutral expression, in spite of his wildly hammering heart.

General Uchiha stepped into the room, making Hashirama feel short of breath immediately, not even noticing how his servant closed the door for privacy. The general didn’t wear the familiar heavy lacquered armour this time, but instead a dark blue coat with a high collar. It looked sturdy and well-worn, but accentuated his form spectacularly, leaving no doubt about his rank. From the angle Hashirama couldn’t see the lower half of his face, but the teal eyes as they met his were just as intense as Hashirama remembered.

“Good morning, general,” Hashirama greeted, allowing himself a small smile, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

The general eased down into a kneeling position with the grace only one of his training possessed, and bowed to him formally while Hashirama’s heart raced, staring at the wild locks of black hair on the back of his head, at how they slipped over broad shoulders, at how the general’s hands formed a perfect triangle on the tatami mats in between them.

“Good morning, Hashirama-sama,” general Uchiha replied in that clipped tone of his, sitting back up and resting his hands on his thighs. “I am honoured by your invitation. How may I be of service?”

Hashirama swallowed, suddenly very aware of his dry throat and mouth. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of: the general was in front of him, his calm features and sharp eyes on him, and Hashirama’s brain fumbled to string two words together, let alone a full sentence! How could one man hold such sway without even noticing it?

“Please be at ease, I… did not ask for your presence to give you any orders,” Hashirama managed, and was almost glad when his servant interrupted them by returning with a tray of tea for the both of them, leaving again quickly. “I just wanted to speak to you and thank you for… helping me back home.”

Hashirama breathed out stutteringly though his nose, relieved that he just barely managed to avoid saying “saving me” – he really hadn’t needed saving from anything, unless one counted his own stupidity. The general looked a little unimpressed by his suggestion, and Hashirama didn’t know why, so he continued quickly.

“I am still on bedrest, so I apologise for the setting,” he laughed nervously, squirming a little and gesturing to the zabuton beside him. “Please, sit with me.”

If the general was surprised by the casual invitation, he didn’t show it, coming to his feet with a quiet rustle of his coat and walking over to Hashirama’s side, kneeling on the cushion prepared for him. His face didn’t betray a hint of what he might be thinking, eyes properly averted from Hashirama’s now that they sat so close to each other. And Hashirama couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in the way his hair fell in soft waves over the slope of his wide shoulders, how it hid part of his face while his chin was securely tucked into the high collar of his coat. He had long eyelashes, Hashirama realised, and felt the urge to lean closer, to get a better look, to maybe kiss –

Clearing his throat Hashirama swayed back a little, not having noticed that he was leaning forward, nervously reaching up to tuck hair back behind his ear, only to find it was still exactly where it was supposed to be. The general had raised his eyes and was looking at him, and Hashirama could have sworn that was a raised eyebrow – oh no, he was already making a fool of himself, wasn’t he? Not even five minutes had passed! Fumbling for something to say or do, Hashirama spotted the tea tray he’d almost forgotten.

“Tea, you – I mean, would you like some tea?” he stammered, and immediately wished he’d kept his mouth closed, feeling his face heat up.

“Allow me,” general Uchiha interrupted kindly, stopping Hashirama from trying to reach towards the tray.

Hashirama nodded, ashamed of his stumbling words, but watched with bated breath as the general set out two cups for them, then poured tea with subtle elegance. The way his hand curved over the lid of the pot, wrist showing under the sleeve of his coat… Blinking and then tearing his eyes away, Hashirama played with the blanket over his lap, tugging the cloth nervously. The general lifted one of the cups and offered it to him with both hands, dipping his head respectfully, and Hashirama took it, fingers trembling slightly as they grasped the porcelain.

The general lifted his own cup, inclining his head once more, and then waited for Hashirama to take the first sip before drinking too. The heady, sweet scent of summer flowers made Hashirama’s head swim a little and made the general’s eyes seem even darker and more acute. It then occurred to him that he’d spend the better part of ten minutes just dumbly staring at his guest, not saying anything of notice at all. Hashirama wanted to smack himself upside the head.

“So, I… I wanted to thank you personally,” he started, taking a deep breath and looking over at the general. “You helped me out of a rather… unflattering situation, and I do appreciate it.”

“It was an honour to fulfil my duty,” the general replied after a pause, mien unchanging, and Hashirama was wracking his head about how to get him to talk more, to share any kind of emotion with him.

“I’ve heard only praise about your capability,” Hashirama continued, surprised when the general let out a quiet huff, as if he didn’t believe him. “How long have you been in my father’s service?”

“Seven years,” was the precise answer he got. “I was appointed general at the beginning of last year.”

Hashirama nodded, impressed. That was not a long time in service to rise to a post that high, especially for someone whose name he couldn’t recall hearing amongst the noble families.

“That shows me that those stories were not exaggerated,” Hashirama smiled, and the general inclined his head in thanks. “I did not recognise your name though – where does your family come from?”

Hashirama immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing, because a shadow fell over the general’s face like a sudden frost. The previously pleasant light in his eyes had flattened, and he didn’t answer immediately, instead setting the tea cup he’d been holding back on the tray, his hands returning to rest on his thighs, but curled inside his sleeves this time.

“My family lived in Natsu province, but I am the last of my name,” he answered with a voice carefully devoid of any emotion, but the tone still made Hashirama shiver, and he cursed himself for bringing up something painful in his ignorance.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he immediately tried to salvage the situation, and bit down on the urge to say any more presumptuous things. “It was not my intention to offend you.”

The general didn’t answer, but the small bow he gave Hashirama was an acknowledgement of the apology at least. Fingers clenched nervously in the blanket over his lap, Hashirama chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say to return to the atmosphere from before, which might not have been easy, but certainly better than this. He eventually settled on honesty.

“I do hope that you’ve found a new family in your comrades, and everyone in this city, though it’s far from home,” he said softly. “The peaceful, happy lives we enjoy in Fire Country are the result of your hard work. Everyone here, myself included, can only be grateful to be protected by you.”

Even though Hashirama had succumbed to his nerves before, he now looked at general Uchiha’s face earnestly, wanting him to know that he meant every word. The people in this city, and everyone living in the country, were dear to him – he’d spent more than enough time sneaking out of the palace when he was still a boy, running around amongst farmers and traders and fishermen, playing with their children and appreciating their free life. He didn’t know anything at all about the general’s life before he’d come to court, but it didn’t matter either. Hashirama could only make a positive impact in the life he was living now, and make sure he knew his work was noticed and appreciated.

The general, whose eyes had been stubbornly lowered to his knees, was looking back at him now, and there was something in his glance that hadn’t been there before. It was almost like he’d been looking through Hashirama and was now seeing him for the first time, too subtle to be called admiration, but possibly surprise. Hashirama guessed that as prince he wouldn’t be thought of as the most considerate person, seeing as he had grown up in luxury and comfort, especially if the first impression he’d given off was that of a good-for-nothing drunkard.

“Thank you for your kindness,” general Uchiha replied eventually, bowing his head to Hashirama respectfully. “If I can fulfil my duty, then that is reward enough for me.”

Hashirama felt a shiver run down his spine, both at the sensuality of the general’s voice, but also because he couldn’t help feeling drawn to the man. He was modest, dutiful, and didn’t seem to care about getting into Hashirama’s good graces for his own benefit – at least he’d made no effort to try until now. All of those qualities were just as attractive as his outstanding features, which made it really hard for Hashirama to keep a calm act around him.

“Is there anyway else I can be of service, Hashirama-sama?” the general inquired when the silence stretched on.

“Uhm… ah… I don’t think so…?” Hashirama stammered, thrown by the sudden question and unprepared to ask for more information.

Hadn’t they just started talking? Was his company so unpleasant that general Uchiha was already tired of it? He hadn’t even figured out how to ask him any of the interesting questions yet!

“Then, with your permission, I will return to work,” the general decided, and when Hashirama made another helpless sound he took that as an agreement and stood.

Watching general Uchiha’s tall frame walk towards the door, Hashirama started to panic. This was not how this meeting was supposed to go! Surely there was something he could say to make him stay a bit longer? The general turned to face him again, sinking to his knees and bowing formally, just as he’d done when he arrived. It was evident that he was about to get up and leave, so Hashirama quickly blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

“Would you – check on my foot?”

When general Uchiha lifted his head and gave him a blank look he pressed on, knowing he’d already jumped boat on the situation: “I would like a second opinion on it… it’s been healing for a couple days now, but I feel terrible being stuck like this… unable to do anything, really.”

Heart beating so loudly Hashirama could have sworn the general could hear it across the room, he smiled hopefully at the man. ‘Please say yes,’ Hashirama thought over and over. ‘Come on, just say yes, please!’

“I’m sure you are aware I am not a healer, Hashirama-sama,” general Uchiha pointed out, and he used that slow, patient tone again that told Hashirama he would really need to make up better excuses in the future.

Like there was any way to mistake the general for the spindly, old, herbal-smelling palace healer.

“I assumed that as a general of your calibre you would be very familiar with injuries such as this, and could tell me whether it’s progressing right,” Hashirama replied, innocent smile still very much in place as he looked up at the general from under his lashes.

General Uchiha seemed to hesitate for a moment, then let out a breath, as if he was resigning himself to the situation, standing and returning to Hashirama’s side with measured steps. He settled down next to where Hashirama’s feet were bundled up under the blanket, knees brushing the futon he was resting on, and Hashirama’s eyes grew wide in nervous anticipation.

“May I?” the general asked, voice low and velvet, and once Hashirama nodded he folded back the blanket, grasping Hashirama’s injured foot by the heel and calf and lifting it up to rest on his knee.

General Uchiha’s hands were warm and very gentle, Hashirama realised, forgetting how to breathe when he proceeded to softly push the hem of the yukata out of his way, his fingertips brushing Hashirama’s shin, causing the hair on his arms to stand up. The general examined the edge of the bandages briefly, then started to peel Hashirama’s silk sock off his foot, working deft but slowly to prevent agitating Hashirama’s ankle. Breath leaving his lung in a shuddering gasp, Hashirama tried very hard not to think too much about the situation his stupid mouth had gotten him into this time.

“The bandages have been set too tight,” the general commented after inspecting his foot, frowning disapprovingly. “If the blood can’t flow freely, you won’t be able to heal properly.”

His hands shifted over the bandages, fingers pressing into the arch of the foot, then cupping the front to rotate the ankle a bit, testing its flexibility, and pausing immediately when Hashirama winced.

“W-will you… I mean, could you… redo them for me? S-so they are right?” Hashirama stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up, just like the time the general had lifted him into his arms – but now those tender hands were on his bare skin, and Hashirama could scarcely wrap his head around it.

General Uchiha looked up at him from under his heavy fringe, and his expression, though not really different from before, made Hashirama’s stomach clench with nervous anticipation. Was that… a crinkling around the corner of his eye? Did the general find him amusing?

“If you wish it, then I will,” he answered, and the smooth tone of his voice washed over Hashirama like fine sake, making him nod without a second thought.

As the strips of linen bandage were peeled off bit by bit, Hashirama could feel the prickling of the increasing blood flow, the sensation making him squirm in discomfort. The General was unbothered by his movement, handling his foot with tenderness, unaware of how each brush of his fingers against Hashirama’s skin slowly wrecked the composure of his prince. Eventually the last loop of the bandage was worked off, and Hashirama wriggled his toes hesitantly. His ankle was an ugly purplish-red, the bruise fading out to green the closer it got to the toes, and the indentions of the bandages were clearly visible, pinched lines all over the skin.

“How does your foot feel, Hashirama-sama?” the general asked, his tone so low Hashirama could barely hear it over his hammering heart.

How did his foot feel? Hesitantly Hashirama moved his toes again, realising he had much more feeling in them now. They rubbed over the cloth of general Uchiha’s coat, which was softer than he had imagined, and Hashirama tried not to think too much about the steely firmness of the thigh underneath it.

“Much better, thank you,” he replied under his breath, acutely aware of the one hand still steadying his foot. “The ankle still smarts a little… but my foot is cold.”

Looking up again Hashirama realised the general was watching him, black eyes lingering on his face, which immediately started feeling hot again. Then general Uchiha finally diverted his eyes and attention back to Hashirama’s aching foot and surprised him by placing one hand under the sole while the other cupped the top, and then gently started rubbing the skin.

“It will take a while longer for your blood flow to return to normal,” the general explained, as if it was a very common occurrence for him to be doing this for someone else – had he ever done this for someone else? “This will help warm you up in the meantime.”

Hashirama was biting his bottom lip so hard he was afraid he would draw blood, hands clenched in the blanket over his thighs and his eyes unable to look away from where the general was so boldly caressing his naked skin with both hands. He had to squirm again as the motion continued to send shivers up his legs and down his spine. Hashirama couldn’t stop marvelling at every brush of general Uchiha’s warm, broad palms against his sensitive skin. Oh, to have those hands grab onto him, maybe slip under the hem of his yukata, and drag those calloused palms all the way up the inside of his leg, his thigh…

“I will redo your bandages now, Hashirama-sama,” general Uchiha’s deep voice cut through his inappropriate daydreams, and he flinched when he found black eyes on his, eyes that only moments ago had looked at him just as intensely in his fantasy.

“Ah… y-yes?”

Hashirama had no idea what he’d just agreed to, uncomfortably flustered by his own mind, and the general huffed quietly, starting to rewrap his foot with practiced ease. To distract himself from his embarrassment, Hashirama tried to look anywhere else but at the man working by his feet, but his eyes were involuntarily drawn back to him time and time again. Once wrapped securely, Hashirama moved his ankle carefully and found to his surprise that the bandages now properly supported him, and the movement was much less painful than before. He beamed at the general, who had picked up his sock and proceeded to slip it back onto Hashirama’s foot.

“It feels a lot better now! Thank you so much,” he breathed, and watched as general Uchiha carefully set his foo back onto the futon, folding Hashirama’s yukata down before covering his leg with the blanket.

Each gesture was done slowly and intently, and it brought the flush back to Hashirama’s cheeks with a vengeance.

“I am glad to be of service,” the general replied, and Hashirama was certain now that he was smiling behind that collar of his. “If there is nothing else…?”

“I… uhm, no, I… there’s nothing. Uhm. Thank you,” Hashirama stumbled over his words, realising that it was probably a good time to let this meeting end. “Y-you may leave.”

He might not have gotten what he’d expected, but he’d certainly gotten more than he’d bargained for. Heart beating harshly, Hashirama wished he could get up and run circles in his gardens to vent the nervous energy he was feeling, but he was most certainly still stuck in bed for another day. General Uchiha gave him one last piercing look, one Hashirama wasn’t certain he wanted to place, then stood and left the room soundlessly, not without one last formal bow.

Once the door had closed behind him, Hashirama let himself fall back into his cushions, hiding his face behind his hands so his groan would be muffled behind them. What a disaster. This meeting had been an absolute disaster, and Hashirama had no idea how he would ever get the general to agree to meet with him again. Bemoaning his inability to force his brain to think when the handsome man was in close vicinity, Hashirama stuck his foot out from under the blanket, once again admiring the handiwork general Uchiha had made of the bandages just peeking out over his sock.

Blushing at the memory of how firmly yet carefully he’d been touched by the man, Hashirama’s eyes fell onto the discarded tea cup on the tray by his futon. The general had drunk from it, after serving them both tea so elegantly… Suddenly a wild thought occurred to Hashirama. If he were to take that cup and drink from it, wouldn’t that be… almost like a kiss? With a sound deceptively close to a wail he threw himself back into the pillow mound, burying his burning face in the cool silk, as if that could somehow stop him from having thoughts like that.


	4. Chapter 4

Hashirama was sitting on his futon, back propped up comfortably against a mountain of pillows. His heart was beating fast, because general Uchiha was kneeling by his side, Hashirama’s foot in his lap and fingers warm on the bare skin of his ankle, brushing over it in a soothing, repetitive manner. The ache there had subsided completely, or rather Hashirama was too distracted to even consider that such a touch might smart, focused instead on the slight tickle of skin on skin contact. The general’s black eyes bored into Hashirama’s, dark and alluring, and beckoning him in an entirely inappropriate manner.

“Is there anyway else I can be of service, Hashirama-sama?” the general asked in that sensual, deep voice of his, and Hashirama could feel his heartbeat up in his throat he was so excited.

“Yes,” he heard himself answer boldly, fingers clenching in the blanket over his lap, the yukata he wore suddenly feeling tight and constraining and warm. “I want –“

He broke off and flinched in surprise when he felt fingers wandering up his calf. The clever digits made their path upwards, gently rubbing the sensitive back of Hashirama’s right knee. He swallowed dryly, watching the general’s arm move, and then slowly raised his eyes to his face again. General Uchiha’s eyes were still trained on him, and it seemed like he was taking great pleasure from watching Hashirama so flustered.

“Is this to your liking, Hashirama-sama?” he asked, leaning just a little closer, enough so the collar of his coat dropped and the small smile playing on his lips became visible.

Hashirama nodded as if in a trance, releasing a shuddering breath as the general’s fingers tenderly traced down the full length of his calf, then made their way up on the inside of his leg, passing the knee and slowly, inch by torturous inch, shifted higher. Squirming on his futon, Hashirama couldn’t help the gasps these touched elicited, reaching out to find purchase on the pillows surrounding him, fingers clenching in precious silk.

“G-general…” he mumbled, flushing red when he heard a soft laugh, much closer than it should be, and felt black hair tickling his cheek.

“What is it that you want, Hashirama-sama?” general Uchiha inquired into his ear, his hand resting possessively on the middle of his thigh, gently squeezing, and Hashirama’s hips jerked involuntarily. “Tell me, and I will ensure it is given to you.”

“I –“ Hashirama panted, breath hitching when the hand squeezed again, just harder. “You –“

General Uchiha pulled back just enough for his dark, dark eyes to bore into Hashirama’s, his hand still resting comfortably, possessively, on Hashirama’s thigh. He held his prince’s eyes as he lifted two fingers a little, causing the knuckles of his warm hand to gently rub the inside of Hashirama’s other thigh. Hashirama’s legs twitched, as if to close around the teasing hand, his fingers clenching harder into the pillows as he moaned through his teeth.

The hair spilling over his shoulder was brushed aside gently, General Uchiha’s strong hand cupping his neck, his thumb caressing Hashirama’s cheek, and his eyes drooped lower, watching how Hashirama’s lips parted, sucking in air desperately. Hashirama’s heart was beating so hard it was nearly painful, his stomach clenching and all his thoughts focused on the possibility of the general leaning in, of feeling his warm breath on his cheeks, of being granted a kiss –

But the object of his affections pulled back with a satisfied smile, obviously having garnered what he had sought, then removed his hand from Hashirama’s shoulder to his great regret. The hand that had been resting between his legs moved down again, and Hashirama wanted to scream. He wanted – he _needed_ – it to be up further, surely the general realised? Surely his teasing had gone on for long enough? Breathing in shakily Hashirama felt frustration bubble up inside him. He deserved those hands on him – he was the prince, wasn’t he? That should be good for something. The general ought to serve him, give him pleasure beyond his wildest dreams –

But general Uchiha had other ideas. He grabbed hold of Hashirama’s leg just over the knee and boldly pulled him forward and onto his back, making him cry out in surprise. Trying uselessly to push himself up on his elbows, Hashirama became incredibly aware of how tall and imposing the general now seemed next to him, looking down on him over the rim of his wide collar. His eyes narrowed a little, and Hashirama wasn’t sure whether it was from a smile until the general lifted his hand and pulled down his collar, revealing subtly curved, soft lips that Hashirama ached to feel against his.

He held his breath when the general moved to sit right at his feet, then bit his lip when he lifted one of Hashirama’s feet back onto his knee, tenderly removing the silk sock he wore, just like he’d done previously. Then he covered Hashirama’s foot with both of his hands, caressing it tenderly and digging his thumbs into the sole in imitation of a massage. Hashirama sighed in bliss at the relaxing feeling, his eyes falling half closed as he tossed his head and let it fall back slightly, giving his tense shoulders a moment of respite to indulge in the pleasurable caress completely.

It was no more than a moment though, because his head shot up again when he felt a different kind of touch, and saw the general bending over his foot, kissing his way up from his toes to the heel, and Hashirama was shaking under him. The general looked up at him then, holding his eyes as he flicked his tongue out against the ankle, and Hashirama couldn’t quite suppress the whine in the back of his throat. Smirking satisfied, general Uchiha repeated the motion and then very carefully nibbled over the thin skin with his teeth, relishing in the way Hashirama trembled for him. Then he leisurely kissed his way upwards, pausing every now and then to lick or nip the inside of Hashirama’s calf.

Hashirama hadn’t known that it was possible to be so painfully aroused by another person. He tried his best, but couldn’t stop himself from moving, his back arching a little every time the general bit into his leg teasingly, then let his tongue rub apologetically over the marks he left. As his lips moved higher, so did his hands, which were stroking over Hashirama’s shins until they came to rest on his knees. At that height the folds of the yukata and the blanket were obviously in the way, having bunched up too much to just be pushed aside.

Hashirama was starting down at the general with wide eyes, breath coming in hapless gasps, and the handsome man in front of him pushed himself up onto his knees, one hand pulling away from him and instead grasping the blanket covering Hashirama’s lap. He paused, as if giving him time to protest, but to deny him was the furthest thing from Hashirama’s mind. Slowly, sensually, general Uchiha pulled on the blanket, the slide of the barely-there weight on his lap making Hashirama breathe out shakily. Only when the last corner of the blanket slipped down his thigh did it occur to him that the thin fabric of his yukata would do nothing to hide the effect the ministrations had on him.

Face red, Hashirama’s knees pulled up, uselessly trying to hide himself, but the general was having none of it. He grabbed Hashirama’s thighs, pinning them down firmly and pushing them apart just a little more. From this angle it was impossible to deny the hardness bulging under Hashirama’s clothes, and he had to turn his head to the side in embarrassment. Truthfully, the forceful demeanour of the general did little to help matters, and as if he knew, general Uchiha’s hands started stroking over his thighs again, first over top the yukata, then slipping under it, unhurriedly exploring the sensitive expanses of Hashirama’s skin.

“G-general –“ Hashirama started, though whatever it was he had wanted to say got lost in the groan of pleasure he couldn’t stop when those warm, firm hands moved higher, and general Uchiha smiled at him like a satisfied cat as he finally, slowly lowered his head again –

Hashirama flinched so wildly he rolled right off his futon, tumbling face-first onto the tatami mat-decked floor. He was briefly disoriented, turning his head to the side a little as he stared, wide-eyed and confused, at the bright daylight filtering through the windows. Groaning unhappily, since he’d squished his nose, he made to push himself up, and found himself so tangled up in his blanket he had to put in real effort to roll back around onto his bed comfortably. His aching face didn’t overshadow how flustered he was feeling still, body thrumming uncomfortably with heat.

Eyes drifting around the room unseeing, Hashirama tried to grasp onto the fleeting tendrils of his dream, which still had his heart racing and his body aching for a touch. He’d been in this very room, hadn’t he? Spread out on his silk pillows, just as he was now, his yukata pulled askew... Closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip, Hashirama recalled what it had felt like to have those hands on him, to feel those lips touch his skin, to have general Uchiha kneeling in between his thighs, leaning over him like his only duty was to serve Hashirama’s body…

Face heating up Hashirama hesitated only briefly before he snuck a hand under the blanket, letting it stroke down over his chest and between his legs, running gentle fingertips over the sensitive skin of his thighs. It had felt somewhat like this, just better, infernally better, Hashirama thought as he shamelessly curled his fingers around his cock, groaning through clenched teeth at the wave of relief it brought. Would general Uchiha be gentle with him like in the dream he’d just had, Hashirama wondered, panting and squirming under his own hand. Would he be teasing and enjoy hearing him beg, or would he be rough and demanding, and pin Hashirama down, making him submit to his own passion?

Would he allow Hashirama to touch him, to return the caresses he craved? Would he let Hashirama open that heavy coat of his, to trace his shoulders and chest with hands and lips? Would he allow it to be taken off him, to bare his naked skin to his prince’s hungry eyes, let him kiss every inch of him? Would his hair feel as soft to the touch as Hashirama imagined? And what about his lips? Would his kisses be firm and possessive, or would he let Hashirama chase him? Would he allow Hashirama to dominate him, or would he have him beneath him only?

His hand moving faster under the covers, Hashirama let his mind wander, letting himself imagine being pinned under the general’s bulk, thighs spread wide to accommodate his weight and receive his kisses, burying his hands in long black hair as he was taken apart. General Uchiha would be so good to him, holding him close and whispering sweet words into his ear… Hashirama bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet as he arched his back and reached his peak. Taking deep, shaking breaths, he kept his eyes closed for a while longer, floating on the warm high of release, wanting to keep the dream image of general Uchiha pleasuring him, brushing hair from his face and kissing his cheek lovingly. Most of all, Hashirama yearned to know what it would be like to have the general’s arms around him after, to lean against him and to be cared for and cherished.

The sticky feeling on his palm eventually got too bothersome, and with a pitiful groan Hashirama rolled onto his side, fishing for a handkerchief to clean himself off with, and then cuddled into his pillows dejectedly. It was so unfair that the steamy dream he’d just woken up to wasn’t reality! Hashirama considered it a grave injustice that he got to see these beautiful glimpses of the handsome general and then had to be confronted with the fact that he was nowhere near actually enjoying any of it. He yearned for it, desperately so. Surely there was a law against such suffering somewhere? Maybe he ought to ask Tobirama about it…

The door to his room opened, and it brought Hashirama out of his moody wallowing, the quiet footsteps of his valet forcing him to acknowledge that a new day had come, and it was time to focus on his responsibilities. That didn’t stop him from unwillingly tugging his blanket up to his nose in a childish attempt to ward off this cruel fate.

“Good morning, Hashirama-sama!” Sarutobi Kosuke greeted him with his habitual cheer, bowing respectfully before walking further into the room. “I hope you slept well?”

Hashirama groaned and stretched a little, and then proceeded to pout as his windows were opened so the sunshine could fill the whole room.

“It’s too bright!” he complained. “I want to sleep some more…”

“Come now, your highness, it’s a beautiful day,” Kosuke tried to lure him, and through the hair falling over his face Hashirama could see him grinning. “You have four letters to answer and you were going to tend to your bonsai after. Would you like me to heat a bath for you after breakfast? We’ll make sure you won’t get your bandages wet.”

After grumbling some more, just because he could, Hashirama submitted to his daily routine and let Kosuke help sit him up and prepare his breakfast. As his favourite dishes and tea were laid out for him, his valet filled him in on the important news in the palace, but Hashirama only listened with half an ear, his thoughts involuntarily drifting back to his conversation with general Uchiha the day before. Those moments, now interwoven with the raunchy dream Hashirama had woken up to, proved to be a very successful distraction, so much so that Kosuke actually had to place a hand on his arm to make him realise his breakfast was ready.

“Are you not feeling well, Hashirama-sama?” he asked anxiously, giving him a close once-over. “Is your foot hurting again?”

“I’m fine,” Hashirama soothed his worries, nervously tucking hair behind his ear. “It’s nothing.”

Kosuke didn’t look like he believed that, but he was polite enough not to question Hashirama, and proceeded to pour his tea instead.

“Please enjoy your breakfast before it gets cold,” he advised, scooting back and standing with his head respectfully lowered. “I’ll ready a bath for you, that will surely lift your spirits.”

Nodding absently, Hashirama picked up his chopsticks and surveyed the low table Kosuke had placed over his lap, laden with all his favourite breakfast treats. He was hungry, but his stomach also felt strange, like his nerves would make it impossible to swallow more than a bite. Shaking his head at himself, Hashirama started with a little bit of rice, then nibbled on some of the vegetables and the omelette, not really taking note of the flavours. In front of his mind’s eye, he once again relived the conversation he’d had with general Uchiha, and also recalled moments of their first meeting.

He’d though that, if nothing else, a talk with the general would maybe sate his curiosity a little, but it would definitely, naturally, get him closer to the man. Hashirama now had to come to terms with the fact that neither had worked. He was still just as intrigued with the mysterious general as he’d been before, if anything his infatuation had gotten worse. And to add insult to injury, he couldn’t say he’d gained much of anything during the conversation yesterday. Hashirama frowned as he set his chopsticks down, taking a sip of his tea and pondering on that.

Despite the criticism his father liked to dish out, Hashirama considered himself quite adept at reading people. He could tell exactly who of the large number of advisors in court didn’t think him a good candidate for the succession, he knew immediately when one of his subjects was scared of him, or uncomfortable. He’d had his fair share of audiences with people who couldn’t wait for the chance to try and get closer to him, to gain his favour in one way or the other, even when they didn’t approve of the way he handled things, just to reap the benefits of royal patronage.

In all his twenty-six years of life Hashirama hadn’t encountered a person who was so courteous towards him, yet at the same time so distant. General Uchiha had been polite without a fault, and had indulged all of Hashirama’s whims, and yet he’d not used the chance to personally gain from the fact that he’d saved the crown prince. Quite the opposite, it had almost seemed like he was uncomfortable with Hashirama’s gratitude and was trying to hold himself aloof.

And that very fact made the general more intriguing and reputable to Hashirama than any tales of his intellect or battle prowess could have done.

Kosuke returned to his side a while later, looking worried when he saw how little of his food Hashirama had touched, and helped him get up and into the other room where a bath had been prepared. Hashirama was relieved to find that the bandages the general had rewrapped for him really seemed to have improved his ankle’s healing progress, as his foot only ached very little when he stepped on it, but his orderly valet insisted he keep to his bed for another day, just as the healer had prescribed. Hashirama agreed absent-mindedly, more so because he wasn’t in the mood to argue, not because he thought he wouldn’t be able to handle walking a couple steps.

The bath did indeed help to wake him up and lift his mood, even though he had to sit still for an hour after, so his long hair could be properly brushed out to dry. Once dressed in his favourite comfortable hakama and matching haori, Hashirama let his servants help him onto the veranda of his rooms, where a futon and pillows had been placed for him to sit on comfortably.

“The sunshine and fresh air will surely help you regain your good health faster,” Kosuke insisted, and Hashirama couldn’t say that he minded it, especially not with tea and snacks at his disposal.

He answered his letters right there as well, smiling at the consoling words sent by his cousins and friends, replying with assurances of his speedy healing process and good spirits. Since he was unable to walk through his garden and greenhouses feely, he ordered for the bonsai he cultivated to be brought to him afterwards, one by one, so he could check them over and trim them if necessary. The task was repetitive and soothing in its simplicity, and Hashirama loved tending to his little trees. He’d always been drawn to nature and felt most at ease in the forests of his father’s summer estate, the only place where he’d really been allowed to run wild.

There was something so hopeful about getting to tend to a small plant, caring for it and nurturing it, and seeing it flourish into a delicate piece of artful perfection. Hashirama smiled contently as he inspected the leaves of his gingko bonsai, admiring their shape and balance. He would have to cut some of them eventually, but not quite yet. Calling over his valet, Hashirama watched as Kosuke and another servant carried the heavy pot back out into the garden, returning it onto the stone bench it normally rested on. The breeze made the leaves rustle adorably, and Hashirama resisted the urge to wave back at it.

“Kosuke?” he called out instead, his valet hurrying to his side immediately.

“How may I be of service, Hashirama-sama?”

“I want you to find out something for me,” he told him quietly, playing with the tea cup in his hands.

“Anything at all,” Kosuke replied immediately, dutifully, as per usual Hashirama’s most reliable confidant.

“I want to know general Uchiha’s daily routine – when he gets up, where he goes, whom he meets with and at what times – anything at all you can learn,” Hashirama explained for him. “But be subtle about it.”

Kosuke looked surprised but bowed his head in ready concession.

“I will see to it immediately, Hashirama-sama. Is there a… special reason for your interest?”

Hashirama cleared his throat and focused on his gingko bonsai, hoping there would be no traitorous flush creeping onto his cheeks, schooling his expression into mild neutrality. He didn’t want to talk about how confused and frustrated he felt, and much less about the way even a simple thought of the general made his heart beat a little faster. He just… wanted to know more about general Uchiha. And maybe… find a way to observe him more closely. Or have a chance meeting with him. And get to talk to him again – he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to that.

“None… none in particular,” he said out loud.

His valet gracefully accepted his words and took his leave with a respectful bow, and Hashirama sent out his other servants as well, reclining back onto the futon with his hands spread out comfortably at his sides. Thoughts were already running wild in his head as he pondered on what exactly he would do with the requested information once he received it, scenarios or bumping into the elusive general in a corridor or sitting by his side in the archives to speak about stately matters. Hashirama really couldn’t wait to see him again in the flesh.

He remained out in the sunshine for a long while afterwards, eyes closed and an excited smile on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer break's over, I guess :'D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy and humbled to have received wonderful art for this chapter! 
> 
> First from lovely Canchuon, who has unending patience with my late night ramblings, and illustrated a scene from this chapter (the first picture): https://twitter.com/Canchuon/status/1326290898016063489?s=20 
> 
> And from @not_asha_ who completely surprised me with these amazing portraits of Hashirama and Madara: https://twitter.com/not_asha_/status/1326529865265389568?s=20
> 
> Thank you so, so much!

To say that Hashirama had been surprised when he received Kosuke’s report about the general’s schedule was an understatement. It was hard to believe that a single person was capable of cramming so many tasks into a day and still found time to eat and sleep. The gist of all the information his valet could compile was that general Uchiha, in between meetings with the other generals and the daimyo, drills with his regiment, and excursions to inspect the defences in certain parts of the country, took care of a staggering amount of paperwork. His name could be found on training schedules and regiment rosters, on the planning committee for the annual field exercises, on special mission reports, and on internal assessment documents.

Hashirama was shaking his head incredulously as he mulled over the summary Kosuke had written down for him. No wonder, then, that general Uchiha had been so curt with him. Being responsible for such a number of tasks wouldn’t allow him much room for casual chats with the prince, whether he cared to have them or not, or for being idle in any way, really. Hashirama wasn’t sure whether he should be intimidated or impressed. Either way he realised it would prove to be difficult to weasel his way into the general’s schedule without a good reason. But that didn’t mean Hashirama was willing to give up his quest. He figured he’d have to go and see for himself just how busy general Uchiha really was and enjoy the glimpses he got of him in the meantime. That way, certainly, nobody could accuse him of hindering his work.

With his foot mostly healed up and his bedrest officially ended by the doctor, Hashirama readily grasped the chance to take an extended stroll through the castle. He needed to gently exercise his foot anyway, and make sure as many people as possible got to see him up and about, so their worry about him would be relieved. And if he happened to catch a glimpse of general Uchiha on one of his rounds, just by chance, or course, then all the better. After a hearty breakfast and a disgusting amount of paperwork, Hashirama let his servants help put him into a proper regal attire and brush out his hair so he could be on his way.

And he realised quickly that getting out like that was a good idea, because every person he met looked relieved and happy to see him again. It was quite unusual for Hashirama to stay holed up in his room for so long, as his sociable personality made him seek out others for small chats, which in turn made it easy for him to gauge the general mood in the castle. It was important for Hashirama to be approachable to everyone – he’d never wanted to be the kind of daimyo his subjects were too afraid to come to with their problems, most often ignoring his father’s reminders of protocol and propriety. Hashirama was certain that the land would be running just as well with less etiquette and more kindness, not that he’d let his father hear about it again. He’d learned a long time ago that Butsuma was not interested in change, only in preservation.

On the way from his rooms through half the family wing, through the gardens and finally the training grounds, Hashirama learned that there’d been heavy rainfalls in the south, which made it necessary to deploy troops to help rebuild houses. To the north there had been increased sightings of foreign military, presumably from Iwa, though those reports had yet to be confirmed. Their capital was far from the border, so there was less worry and more scandalous interest in those stories, but Hashirama did take them seriously. There had been wars fought against Iwa before, even as recently as during his late childhood, and the dark mood which had reigned the palace then had burned itself into his memory.

As he continued on into the courtyard where their armed forces were exercising, Hashirama could hear a training session was in progress. Smiling smugly, as that meant his valet’s information had been correct, Hashirama entered carefully and slipped to the side under the archway, half-hidden in the shade, wanting to take the time to observe. And it was time well spent: directly within his line of sight general Uchiha was pacing, his hair ruffled slightly by the breeze as he was shouting out instructions to the unit exercising. He held a lance in his left hand, the end of which was planted firmly onto the stone floor, the other stemmed into his hip.

Hashirama thought he looked like a warrior god ready to be modelled into a statue to commemorate his latest triumph, and his heartbeat sped up involuntarily. There was just something naturally compelling about him, the way his voice rang clear across the rows of practicing soldiers as he instructed them to show different forms, the way he corrected mistakes diligently but not unkindly. The way he would demonstrate a movement or two, and make sure everyone knew what to watch out for specifically. The way his long, wild hair gleamed in the sunlight… alright, so maybe Hashirama was swooning a little. That wasn’t forbidden, surely?

He was so engrossed in watching him Hashirama didn’t notice that some of the soldiers at the back had noticed him as they were turning about in their forms, and that the muttering had alerted general Uchiha, until said general started walking through the lines of his men, correcting postures here and there, coming closer and eventually spotting the prince shamefully loitering behind a column. Hashirama was certain he saw his eyebrow twitch before the general called for a pause to the exercise and saluted him formally.

“The first regiment and I greet your highness the prince,” he said, and was immediately echoed by the soldiers at his back, who also copied their general’s respectful bow.

Hashirama stepped out in the open with a sheepish laugh and thanked general Uchiha for his consideration, doing his best to look like the benevolent prince he fancied himself to be, and less like a nosey scoundrel who just wanted to watch a handsome man go about his day.

“It is a relief to see you once again in good health,” general Uchiha continued, which made Hashirama’s cheeks heat up at the reminder of their last encounter. “Is there a reason for your visit, Hashirama-sama?”

Schooling his face into his best pleasantly neutral expression, Hashirama shook his head.

“I am merely taking a walk to exercise my foot, all this resting has made me feel too cooped up,” he explained, glad to have an excuse at hand when the general’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “And I got a little nostalgic about training, so I decided to take a detour across the gardens and come here. I confess I am impressed by your endurance, to train in this heat!”

Summer had just begun when Hashirama had gotten his foot injured, and while it wasn’t the first noticeably hot day, the sweltering midday sun could definitely be felt in the courtyard, where there was little shade to be found, and so many people were cramped into close quarters. In addition to that, the many layers Hashirama wore weren’t exactly helping him to keep a cool head in front of the general, who was eyeing him critically.

“The soldiers are not bothered by a little heat,” general Uchiha told him firmly, and then proceeded to suggest: “If it pleases you, I would be honoured to invite you to oversee our practice, Hashirama-sama, so you can see their diligence for yourself.”

Hashirama was thrown off by the subtle but definite change of the general’s demeanour – why did he sound so challenging all of a sudden? He made an effort to hide it, but Hashirama was certain he was reading the slight narrowing of his eyes and the subtle jab in his tone correctly. Had he offended the man again, without realising it? Letting his eyes sweep briefly over the soldiers who stood within earshot, Hashirama could mostly discern a nervous kind of wariness on their sweaty faces. Hashirama hadn’t exaggerated, it was a hot day, and the men were starting to feel the adrenaline of having to perform well for their prince, but none of them seemed bothered by the fact.

Whatever he had done to rile up general Uchiha, Hashirama was going find out.

“How can I decline such an invitation?” he therefore answered eagerly, though his heart was hammering up to his throat, and saw the general’s eyes narrow further. “I haven’t watched an exercise like this in a long while. Thank you for humouring me, general Uchiha.”

The general saluted him again smoothly, his face stern and unreadable once more as he stepped to the side to make way for Hashirama so he could walk to the front of the crowd. Hashirama’s throat felt parched, not because of the many eyes on him, he was used to those from an early age on. But he could feel general Uchiha’s dark gaze boring into the back of his head and wished he could better gauge the other’s character. He came to a halt in the exact same spot the general had stood in as Hashirama had watched, turning to face him. Their eyes met, and Hashirama made himself nod at him as he stepped to the side, conceding the room to him. General Uchiha hesitated briefly, but then resumed his position with confidence. But Hashirama knew he’d realised what he was doing – whether it would soothe his temper or not would have to be seen.

The general then proceeded to lead the regiment through the drill they had been practicing, and it took all of Hashirama’s willpower to keep his eyes on the soldiers and not on the man standing by his side, calling out orders in a voice that sent pleasant shivers down Hashirama’s spine. The combination of the heat and the blood rushing in his ears made him feel light-headed and knowing that the man he’d seen in his dreams stood so close to him, probably aware of his every breath, didn’t make things easier. Hashirama did catch his gaze wandering a couple times, and the fact that he found general Uchiha watching him from the corner of his eyes as well did nothing to soothe his heartbeat.

Before long the exercise was finished, and the soldiers saluted Hashirama in unison. Hashirama nodded at them approvingly, and then turned his head to face the man next to him. General Uchiha lowered his head demurely as he saluted, then fixed his dark eyes on Hashirama expectantly. There was pride in them, at his soldiers’ good work, and a silent challenge. Hashirama cleared his throat, and really would have wanted to say something witty, but all he managed was a shaky smile.

“Your confidence in your men is not misplaced,” he complimented readily. “The first regiment can and should be seen as an example to all others.”

Against what Hashirama had hoped for, he was not graced with an answering smile from the general, merely a bow of his dark head and a soft exhale, though there was satisfaction in his dark eyes.

“You honour us with your praise, Hashirama-sama,” he replied, and then added rather unwillingly. “We will gladly welcome you to join us again in the future.”

“I’m sure I’ll take you up on that offer,” Hashirama agreed sweetly, having only just waited for such a suggestion, and he could have sworn he saw the general’s eyebrow twitch.

Furiously thinking about a way to remain in the courtyard and continue watching the training, Hashirama came up with nothing aside from mere whim, and from the impatient air around general Uchiha it was becoming clear that he had humoured the prince enough for his liking. Shoulders drooping slightly Hashirama had to accept defeat, but he vowed to find a good reason to come see the general at work again in the next couple days.

“I’ll be on my way now,” he told general Uchiha. “I look forward to seeing you continue the good work.”

General Uchiha thanked him with another bow, and Hashirama could have sworn he heard him mutter a combative “You will,” under his breath. He pretended not to have heard, and slowly made his way back to the entryway of the courtyard, fingers curling nervously in the sleeves of his haori. The general’s eyes followed him until he rounded the corner and could allow himself to let out a shaky breath, lifting a hand to tug at the folds of his clothes right over his heart.

Every meeting with general Uchiha gave Hashirama more questions than answers. Had he thought Hashirama was challenging his qualities as a teacher? Had he endured criticism often, because of his young age, and was therefore insecure in his position? But with such an easily roused temper, how had he even managed to ascend to the rank of general? Or – and Hashirama didn’t like this line of thought at all – did he just find the prince’s presence particularly irritating?

Heart still beating unsteadily in his chest, Hashirama sighed deeply, glad to have gotten the chance to exchange a couple words with general Uchiha, if nothing else. Maybe over time he would be able to convince him that he wasn’t just a good-for-nothing, head in the clouds gambler who couldn’t be trusted to find his way home on his own. Maybe that was why the he’d become so irritated when Hashirama had commented on the weather – clearly only a frivolous nobleman would complain about the temperatures.

Still wallowing in self-pity, Hashirama made his way back to the family wing. Truthfully, his ankle was starting to ache a little, all the walking clearly having overtaxed his still-healing foot, and it would probably be best to sit down and relax for a while. Just a corridor over he ran into Kosuke, who looked a little frazzled and immediately lit up when he spotted Hashirama.

“Your highness! I have been looking for you everywhere!” he cried and was at Hashirama’s side in an instant. “Tobirama-sama has asked whether you are free to meet with him, but I couldn’t find you to confirm it.”

Hashirama was glad for the opportunity to take his mind off things, and immediately nodded his consent. His little brother may have scolded him within an inch of his life the last time they’d met up but being in his rooms would be a welcome respite from the summer sun. He sent Kosuke out to get him a cool towel to freshen up quickly, already looking forward to being able to sit down again. Hashirama’s younger brother occupied the northern section of the family wing, which meant less direct sunlight and a quieter atmosphere, and the cool air hitting Hashirama’s face as Kosuke opened the door for him reminded him of that instantly.

He sent his valet out to ensure a light lunch was delivered to them, certain that Tobirama had postponed eating because of some project of his. Kosuke bowed before he left and closed the sliding doors behind Hashirama quietly. Even had one not known beforehand, stepping into the rooms made it obvious that Tobirama’s favourite colour was blue. From the wall hangings to the silks and cushions, all the spots not piled high with scrolls or trinkets were cast in the cool tones, from cerulean to azure to indigo.

Hashirama found his little brother in his second sitting room, bent over maps and taking notes with quick strokes of a slender brush. Smiling at the sight Hashirama slowly wandered through the room, giving him the space to finish whatever he was working on. Tobirama hated nothing more than getting interrupted while he was focusing, and it wasn’t like Hashirama lacked interesting things to look at. Tobirama enjoyed tinkering with things, whether it be devices to track the movements of the planets, or new clocks, or some interesting minerals one could mix and get curious reactions out of. His rooms were a treasure trove of strange things and foreign curiosities, though it was always advised to look rather than touch.

It was an open secret that Hashirama didn’t have nearly the same investment in those things – his leanings were the arts, and the more organic, sturdy structures of trees and plants. Their interests met when it came to the development of interesting new clays one could form into sculptures, but Hashirama had less of an inert desire to pick things apart to understand them than Tobirama and gained more pleasure from nurturing the living. Both brothers respected each other’s preferences, even when Tobirama’s more practically applicable hobbies endeared him more to their father than Hashirama’s whimsical interests ever did.

“Good afternoon, anija,” Tobirama eventually addressed him familiarly, and Hashirama turned to him with a smile, just as his brother bowed to him respectfully. “I apologise for not greeting you right away, I am busy.”

“You are always busy,” Hashirama teased him, walking over to his side and glancing down at the large scroll picturing their country’s topography. “Are you redrawing the maps again?”

Tobirama huffed and shook his head, but from the way his mouth was pulled into a thin line Hashirama could tell he was worried.

“I’ve been getting reacquainted with the terrain of the south,” he explained, pointing to the delta of a river. “You may not have heard of it, but there have been heavy rainfalls in this region, and the river has swelled up dangerously. Three villages have been flooded and at least one bridge is destroyed.”

“I’ve heard, actually, just this morning,” Hashirama replied, worried about their people now that he knew the extent of the damage. “One of the gardeners has family down south, and she told me they’d had to evacuate to their cousin’s farm in the east… the damage seems to be extensive.”

Tobirama nodded, and started tidying up his workspace with habitual precision, waving his hand over the paperwork to fan the wet ink dry.

“Our esteemed father agrees that the matter will need immediate attention. I will leave for the south the day after tomorrow and lead the rebuilding process,” Tobirama told his brother, who gasped in surprise.

“You will be sent south?” Hashirama asked, flabbergasted. “When were you planning on telling me?”

Tobirama gave him a patient look, the kind one would give a particularly bothersome child, rolling up the scroll with the map and tying it securely.

“Just this afternoon, as I invited you to come over,” he explained, and Hashirama hid his irritation behind a pout.

“But you are leaving in two days!” he pointed out, helping Tobirama fit all his strolls into a chest for travelling. “How long will you be gone?”

“Hopefully no longer than three weeks,” Tobirama sighed, running a hand through his mussed hair. “I wasn’t expecting to be the one sent out. Touka would have been more suited.”

Tobirama wasn’t wrong – their father didn’t usually delegate such tasks to them, unless the situation was dire enough to warrant royal involvement. He was understandably protective of his two remaining sons, unwilling to risk their lives outside of the protected walls of the palace. Hashirama and Tobirama had lost their brothers in their early youth, Kawarama to unexpected illness and Itama to a planned assassination while they were travelling home from another nobleman’s estate. As daimyo it was essential for their father to have a stable succession, so neither he nor Tobirama blamed him for his overprotectiveness. To Hashirama it still felt terribly overbearing at times.

“I think you are very well suited for the task,” he decided as Tobirama finished tidying his workplace, and they walked together towards the zabuton prepared for them to sit. “You are well-versed in the arts of engineering and you have always had a talent for fixing structural issues.”

Tobirama scoffed quietly, but from the way his pale cheeks turned pink Hashirama could tell he was pleased by the praise. His proud little brother would never admit to it, though, so Hashirama just smirked quietly. They sat down, and as if on cue Tobirama’s valet entered, followed by two maids, carrying tea and a variety of dishes which they arranged for them on the low table.

“Thank you, Himura-san,” Hashirama smiled, and they pulled back a respectful distance and bowed to Tobirama and him.

“We wish your highnesses a comfortable afternoon,” Tobirama’s valet mumbled, then fled the room quickly, the maids on his heels.

Hashirama was distracted from wondering about how flustered they seemed when Tobirama started pouring tea for him, and he curiously picked through the dishes delivered to them.

“These are all healthy!” he whined upon making the startling discovery, and Tobirama gave him a stern look.

“You’ve been hurt just recently, you need to regain your health as soon as possible,” he insisted, and when that made his brother wilt in displeasure, he unhappily conceded: “There’s sweet rice porridge, and jokan – I know you, I don’t want to spend the afternoon listening to you wallow.”

Hashirama laughed at that, lifting his tea cup as the both of them drank. He was going to miss Tobirama – his little brother was the only one who dared to speak to him so brashly. Considering the many dishes set out for them, Hashirama couldn’t help putting some pieces onto Tobirama’s plate. He knew his brother’s preferences, and it felt nice to get to care for him, if only in small ways.

“I’m expecting the measures to be set up quickly,” Tobirama continued their previous conversation after setting down his cup. “We have gotten detailed reports, and since it’s not the first time the region has been flooded, there are some structures in place that will make distributing help easier.”

Nodding his understanding, Hashirama picked up some steamed mushrooms with his chopsticks, only realising how hungry he was when he started eating. Of course Tobirama would have already learned everything about the region and was ready for any situation that might occur. Hashirama was glad for him, knowing his brother sometimes struggled to find acceptance and appreciation because of his prickly nature, and a task like this would certainly allow him to shine.

“Who else will go with you?” Hashirama asked after he’d treated himself to a couple more bites. “I know it’s the other border, but… I’ve been told there’s been sightings of scouting troops on our land, possibly from Iwa.”

Tobirama looked up sharply, and Hashirama wondered why he seemed so startled. It wasn’t that Hashirama sought out that kind of information, but that didn’t mean he had no idea about security matters. It would be highly unbecoming of him, if not outright dangerous, to not be aware of threats such as this.

“I’ll be accompanied by the whole second regiment, anija,” Tobirama soothed his worries. “Their manpower will be needed for rebuilding, not just for personal protection, but I’ll certainly benefit from it.”

“That’s good,” Hashirama murmured, poking at his rice. “I hope they are just as competent as the first regiment.”

Tobirama gave him another look laced with confusion, and Hashirama nearly choked on the bite he was trying to swallow, realising he’d just given himself away.

“Why would you say that?” his little brother naturally asked, and Hashirama squirmed on his seat, pretending he needed to rearrange his hakama to buy himself the time to figure out a way to talk himself out of this.

“Oh, I mean nothing by it,” he settled on casual. “I just came upon them earlier, while I was on my walk. They were doing a drill, and their form was quite outstanding. General Uchiha invited me to observe.”

Tobirama’s perturbed expression told him how unsuccessful his attempt had been, and Hashirama groaned inwardly, deciding he was in for it now.

“It was quite nice to see, you know. I realised it’s been a long time since I was last involved in a proper training exercise… I was feeling a little nostalgic,” he continued rambling as Tobirama’s pale eyebrows climbed higher on his forehead.

“Anija,” he interjected weakly. “You haven’t participated in any training exercises in months because you, and I quote, ‘hate these violent and vulgar displays of physical aggression'.”

“… and general Uchiha is very competent for his young age,” Hashirama went on, happily ignoring Tobirama’s comment. “Did you know he’s only served father for seven years? He must be an exceptional talent. He’s involved in so many projects and has been given a lot of responsibility already. And he seemed to take the drill very seriously, there was not a single misstep from any of his men.”

Tobirama’s incredulous expression was slowly but surely changing into one of suspicion.

“Why,” he asked slowly. “Are you suddenly noticing all these things? You didn’t even know any of the generals’ names two weeks ago.”

Hashirama cleared his throat loudly and took a sip of his tea, looking anywhere but at his brother, who was fixing him with a look that told him that he may as well just spill all his secrets, since Tobirama would figure them out eventually whether he wanted him to or not. So he would have to try once again, and be more convincing.

“I may have… realised that I have been rather negligent about certain things,” Hashirama lied happily through his teeth. “Shamefully so. The injury has been rather enlightening in that aspect. No matter how much I may dislike them, they are part of my duties, and I should not neglect them, or my knowledge about them.”

Looking up hesitantly Hashirama would not have expected to see his stoic brother stare at him, completely flabbergasted, his mouth open in shock. It even took him a couple moment to collect himself.

“A… anija? Are you… sure you are alright?” Tobirama then asked, carefully.

“Very sure,” Hashirama chuckled, though it smarted a little that Tobirama was so caught off-guard by his words.

Yes, he wasn’t overly fond of warfare or strife of any kind, and part of his reason for rejecting any matters regarding the military may have been to antagonise their father. Butsuma refused to see the merit in any and all of the suggestions Hashirama had brought forward, disregarding them as adolescent drivel of a simple-minded boy. Hashirama just wished that his desire to make peace rather than war was not so looked down upon by everyone dear to him. He just couldn’t understand why it was wrong to focus on cooperation and ceasefire contracts rather than never-ending conflicts with their neighbouring kingdoms.

“I… am pleased to hear it,” Tobirama eventually managed to choke out. “Father certainly will be, once he learns of your change of heart.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear nervously, Hashirama laughed that suggestion right off. He didn’t even want to consider having a conversation about the matters of his heart, especially not with their father.

“What’s more important right now is your trip,” he tried to divert his brother’s attention back to a safer topic. “Tell me about the region – what are you planning to do first?”

Still looking a little unsettled, Tobirama allowed him to change the topic, and Hashirama listened to his plans as he ate, giving his opinion where he could. His heart, which had begun racing as Tobirama questioned him about his motives, was slowly calming again. But even though he tried to focus on his brother’s words, general Uchiha’s mysterious face was never far from his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with me, this chapter took a long while to complete.


	6. Chapter 6

Hashirama was frustrated.

A week had passed since he’d sent his brother off, secretly jealous of his opportunity to get outside and see something else besides plain castle walls and paperwork, though he knew Tobirama didn’t mind the latter as much as he. He’d received a letter just that morning, assuring him of the delegation’s safe arrival and detailing the devastating destruction Tobirama had found in the south. The letter had done little to reassure him, and he could tell by his brother’s clipped words that there would be a lot to do and his stay might have to be extended after all. He wished there was something he could do to help as well, but remembered the chiding words of his father when he’d last seen him, and knew any attempts of his to leave the castle would be met with anger and a firm denial.

On top of that, Hashirama was behind on his work, because every time he sat down to get things done, his mind would inexplicably drift off to entertain thoughts of general Uchiha, to the way he’d looked the last time Hashirama had seen him, the way his hair gleamed with the faintest hints of blue in the sunlight, the unexpected gentleness of his hands that time he rewrapped Hashirama’s bandages... He had trouble falling asleep at night because of his rampant daydreams and woke up cranky and confused in the mornings. He never recalled what his brain had conjured up at night, the dreams dissolving like smoke the second he opened his eyes, but from the way his clothes were damp and sticky Hashirama could very well guess their nature. It felt like being returned to the state of a hapless child on the cusp of adulthood, and the embarrassment was hard to put into words.

After his not so successful attempt at endearing himself to the general during regiment practice, Hashirama had decided to try for a subtler approach, though that wasn’t usually his style – or rather, he never before had been in need of subtlety, because he was the prince. Knowing general Uchiha’s schedule, he found ways to be in the same area as him, whether that was the stables, or the archives, or the corridor leading to the meeting rooms, using the chance to chat with some of his father’s advisors to cover up the real reason for his presence. General Uchiha didn’t always notice him there, but Hashirama wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to get to observe him at his own leisure.

He was a handsome man, though that was a given with how Hashirama’s eyes were drawn to him immediately whenever he entered his line of sight, and he had an imposing aura which felt larger than life. Hashirama had learned during some conversations that there were those at court who were wary of him and considered him a bad omen because of the tragedy that clung to him. It wasn’t something openly talked about due to propriety’s sake, but Hashirama had been able to wheedle the truth out of Akimichi Taro, the head of one of the clans allied to the Senju whom the daimyo was currently entertaining: general Uchiha’s clan had fallen to invaders from Iwa during the last great war, sparing only the eldest son by chance, as he’d been in the Konohagakure at the time. Within a week he’d lost his family, home, and lands, and it was thanks to his outstanding military talent that he’d achieved the rank he held today, even though there was no family to back him – that and the daimyo’s benevolence, generously giving the young man a chance even though the Uchiha and Senju clans had a long history of strife between them.

It was an uncharacteristic kindness from Hashirama’s father, though one that had been very much needed after the long, troubled years of constant war with Iwa. It had shown the other clans that their daimyo was willing to put past grievances aside and focus on a brighter future for all of them, which had encouraged even the more hesitant ones to ally themselves with the Senju. Hashirama was relieved that this olive branch, however small, had been extended towards the general. In retrospect, it was no wonder he’d reacted so frosty towards Hashirama when he’d been asked about his clan’s origins. He must have assumed Hashirama knew, and was slighting him on purpose – or worse, he didn’t know, which, considering their clans’ history with one another, was maybe an even worse offence.

Groaning as he buried his face in his hands, Hashirama let his shoulders droop. He’d really managed to present his very worst side in front of general Uchiha, it was no surprise the man showed so little interest in him. Hashirama must have seemed like the most uneducated, good-for-nothing cretin the general had ever met. That was probably also why, on the handful of occasions their eyes had met in the corridor, or at the door of the meeting room, he’d been offered strictly protocol greetings by him, nothing more and nothing less. General Uchiha must have deduced from Hashirama’s imbecilic behaviour that being in his favour would be of no use to him, as Hashirama had no idea what he was doing.

That stung, not just because Hashirama felt the inexplicable need to impress the man, but also because it was truly not the kind of person he wanted to be. His dream was, and always had been, to ensure that his family, his friends, and all the people who would look to him for guidance, would live happy lives in a prosperous, peaceful land. If that meant taking a stance against constant unnecessary warfare and therefore alienating his father, then so be it – or so Hashirama had thought in the past. He now realised that stubbornly following just his own dreams had left him ignorant, and therefore vulnerable to situations a man of his standing must never find himself in.

Either way, he wanted to show the general that he was ready to put in the work to better himself, that he was worthy of the title he held, and meant use the influence he would wield wisely in the future. And since none of his attempts to insert himself into the man’s orbit had resulted in a conversation, or any kind of opportunity to foster the mutual understanding Hashirama was eagerly longing for, there was really only one option left for him:

Hashirama had to become general Uchiha’s student.

It wasn’t a decision he had taken lightly, especially since Hashirama was well-aware that he would need some good arguments as for why general Uchiha should refocus his time and energy on educating him instead on top of his many duties. But considering the information he’d gotten from advisor Akimichi, it would certainly improve general Uchiha’s standing in court if he were to become tutor to the prince.

Pushing himself up from where he’d been laying on his desk, filled with a goal and the resolution to see it through, Hashirama shoved his paperwork into one large messy pile and then stood, stretching his back with a groan. Kosuke would take care of sorting the documents for him later. He then went over to the nearest mirror, giving himself a critical once-over to ensure his hair was still tied up into an elegant bun, and his _nōshi_ stretched neatly across his shoulders. Hashirama smiled contently at his reflection, confident in the fact that the greens and creams of the traditional Senju clan garb suited his skin tone, and grateful that his smooth, thick hair lent itself well to the hairstyles required of him in court.

Confirming with a quick glance at general Uchiha’s schedule that he would be finishing a drill with the young recruits soon, Hashirama made his way across the courtyard and towards the military training grounds. He met one of his father’s most senior advisors, Mitokado Ryota, as he was passing through the gate, who didn’t hesitate to engage him into small talk about courtly matters, naturally leading to the man’s favourite topic: marriage. For that reason alone he was Hashirama’s least favourite of all the clan heads in his father’s court, the Senju clan elders aside, simply because he would not cease pushing for Hashirama to make a politically suitable marriage alliance.

Hashirama knew that people were starting to talk about the fact that he was still unattached, of course – he was the most eligible bachelor in the country, simply because he was in line to inherit the throne from his father one day. Hashirama himself had wondered why Butsuma seemed unusually relaxed about the matter, considering his habitual strict adherence to protocol and decorum. Maybe he was waiting for an especially advantageous match to present itself, maybe – and this was a fear Hashirama had carried in his heart for a long time – maybe Hashirama’s refusal to fall in line and to be the model son Butsuma expected, just like his brother Tobirama, made his father hesitate to be seen rewarding him.

Hashirama was glad to have the excuse of meeting general Uchiha to get out of the old man’s clutches, unwilling to let the discussion sour his mood, and he definitely did not roll his eyes heavenwards the moment his back was turned. Honestly. And his father wondered why Hashirama found courtly proceedings so tedious and used every chance he got to evade them. As luck would have it though, Hashirama arrived at the training grounds just as general Uchiha was busying himself in front of the weapons room, the practice session already over. Hashirama was about to call out to him, then paused, curious to see what the general was so acutely focused on.

His heart beating faster in childish excitement, as he was getting to do something sneaky, Hashirama slowed and gentled his steps until they made no noise at all, getting closer and closer to the unsuspecting general, who seemed to be in the process of repairing the slightly bent tip of a lance. Distractedly Hashirama noticed he was wearing black gloves. He got as close as two arm lengths behind the man before seeing him freeze. General Uchiha’s back went tense as a bowstring and within moments he whirled around, his arm raised defensively, and his eyes narrowed in anger. He paused in clear surprise at whom he found right behind him, and Hashirama, who had felt his heart skip a beat at the sudden movement, quickly hid his shock behind a wide smile

“General Uchiha!” Hashirama greeted, hoping the forced friendliness would cover his jittery nerves and racing heartbeat. “I am glad to find you – will you spare a moment of your time?”

The general’s irritable frown was not the most auspicious start to their conversation, but at least he schooled his face into a more receptive, though still very much disgruntled expression.

“My greetings, your highness. Please excuse my inattentiveness,” the general bit out, and bowed before Hashirama, who tried to ignore how the smoky quality of his voice made his knees feel weak. “How may I be of service?”

Fiddling nervously with his sleeve Hashirama tried to look as unbothered as possible.

“Be at ease, I see that you are tending to a _naginata_. Is it broken?” he inquired, mentally slapping himself upside the head.

There he was, trying to make small talk with general Uchiha. Truly, Hashirama had turned into a mirror of the bothersome advisors he couldn’t stand himself.

“Thank you, your highness,” the general replied, his irritation settling a little, though he still looked put out about being snuck upon, which Hashirama couldn’t help but find adorable. “It is not broken, just… a little worse for wear. Some of the new recruits showed a little too much enthusiasm during the spar.”

“That’s a good thing, though, that they are motivated!” Hashirama laughed, glad to see general Uchiha nodding his agreement.

“How may I be of assistance to your highness?” he repeated his earlier question, and Hashirama could feel his nervousness increase tenfold, immediately.

“It is… a bit of a delicate matter, to be frank,” he admitted, and tried desperately to gauge general Uchiha’s mood, but was unsuccessful. “But one I am confident you could help me with.”

“I am at your service,” the general promised, though he seemed to be fighting to keep his temper at bay.

It didn’t make him any less handsome, Hashirama had to admit. General Uchiha was just wonderful to look at every day, his dark blue _kataginu_ and black _kosode_ and _hakama_ making his pale skin stand out attractively, and the way his long, wild hair fell over his shoulders… Hashirama wondered why he didn’t tie it up, as was the respectable fashion of the day, and why nobody seemed to mind it, but he certainly wouldn’t complain about it. That hair looked perfectly suited to running one’s fingers through, thick and soft and shiny…

“Hashirama-sama?” general Uchiha’s voice cut through his drifting thoughts, and Hashirama could feel his cheeks heat up as he covered for his lapse with a nervous laugh.

“Uhh… yes, so…” he started again, clearing his throat. “I am impressed with your work and your diligence, as you know, so I would like for you to tutor me.”

General Uchiha’s face remained perfectly blank, but he blinked once, seeming gobsmacked. His lack of response made Hashirama nervous, so he continued quickly.

“Or… more like teach me? Not that I don’t know things, it’s just… I want to learn more about the military endeavours of our country, as well as the security aspects related to them, because that is something I have not studied sufficiently. And as I was considering who would be best suited to teach me, my choice naturally fell on you. You show an admirable precision, general, but are not strict to the point it becomes inane, and –“

Hashirama cut off his rambling just before he accidentally admitted that he’d just very much appreciate the excuse to look at general Uchiha for hours – just because his fantasies were running rampant didn’t mean he ought to give himself away carelessly, and that had been a close call. Looking at the general from under his lashes, Hashirama noticed that his calm mien had slipped a little, and the bewildered look on his face was really quite cute.

“I… am very flattered, your highness,” he answered hesitantly. “But surely I am not a suitable choice? I have been given the rank of general only a year ago, and my experience is limited. I would expect someone like general Shimura, or even general Nara, to be a much better candidate.”

Unable to keep himself from smiling, Hashirama shook his head. General Uchiha didn’t understand that he was the best choice to Hashirama simply because he didn’t consider himself a good choice. He’d met the other generals before, of course, and enjoyed general Nara’s laid-back attitude in particular, but the man’s intellect was just running twenty steps ahead of everyone else, so following his tangents was next to impossible. And general Shimura he’d never spoken to at length, but something about the man just… didn’t sit right with Hashirama. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, and therefore didn’t want to be impolite to one of his father’s most trusted allies, but he also didn’t want to spend time in his company unless he strictly had to. An uneasy shiver went down his spine at the mere thought of being taught by such a man.

“There are many reasons why I approached you specifically, general,” Hashirama told him patiently – general Uchiha didn’t need to know that half of those reasons were related to his good looks and silky voice, and Hashirama’s very selfish interest in getting to know him. “Naturally a more senior member of the military would come to mind. But I would prefer the opinion of someone younger, and a little more… open-minded.”

General Uchiha raised an eyebrow at him, as if he wanted to question how Hashirama had come to such a conclusion, and while his palms were sweating and his heart was beating in his throat, Hashirama held his eyes, trying to convey to him that he meant every word. Eventually general Uchiha broke the eye contact and lowered his head in a courteous bow, and Hashirama released an unsteady breath he hadn’t known he was holding. How could just a glance from the general’s black eyes make his stomach clench and his whole body tremble with excitement?

“I am honoured by the trust and favour, your highness,” general Uchiha answered, voice clear but soft in deference. “But it is not just my lack of experience, it is that my duties will not permit me to give the utmost priority to fulfilling this task, and his royal highness deserves nothing less. I therefore humbly advise to rather seek out general Nara, as he is very knowledgeable and an adept teacher.”

Hashirama’s elation immediately evaporated after hearing those words. Surely general Uchiha couldn’t be serious? He stared at him, mouth slightly parted and caught completely off-guard, not having planned for a scenario in which he might be denied – frankly such an option had never even crossed Hashirama’s mind. He had to forcefully shove down the confusing emotions that were bubbling up inside him, and inclined his head to the side, unsure.

“I see. That is… very disappointing,” he eventually stated, not bothering to keep it from showing in his voice, which resulted in general Uchiha bowing deeply once more.

“Your subject deeply regrets displeasing your highness,” the general answered, contrite. “Hopefully there will be a chance to make up for this inadequacy in the future.”

Keeping his head respectfully lowered, general Uchiha took two steps back and then walked past his prince, and Hashirama didn’t know what was more infuriating about this whole situation: the ugly curl of terror at the denial in his belly, or the shameless way in which general Uchiha had dismissed him. Shoulders drooping in the most pitiful depressed manner, Hashirama eventually made his way back towards his rooms. But it didn’t take long for his sadness to be overpowered by an irrational anger, his ego unwilling to take such a blow.

Who did general Uchiha think he was, to simply turn down the opportunity to tutor the firstborn prince of the country? And all because he had _too much work to do_? Didn’t he know what kind of honour it was, to be selected by Hashirama himself? Had the man never heard of delegating tasks, or setting priorities? Fuming silently, Hashirama clenched his hands into fists. He wasn’t sure what part of their conversation had given the general the impression that this was a choice and not an order issues by his superior. And surely, as a military commander, he was familiar with following orders?

Hashirama conceded that he’d let the unexpected denial throw him off, but that didn’t mean he was going to let general Uchiha take the high ground and continue to ignore him! If he considered himself too busy to do the job Hashirama wanted him to do, well, then his work would just have to be reassigned. Abruptly stopping in his tracks in the middle of the gardens Hashirama took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do him any good to rush now, he had to think of a plan. Surely there had to be a way for him to regain the upper hand! Muttering a curse Hashirama wished his brother was here to aide him – Tobirama always knew the solutions for Hashirama’s problems, one way or another.

“What would Tobirama say?” he wondered out loud, and then a slow smirk curled his lips.

Hashirama knew exactly what his brother would suggest, and even though it wasn’t his preferred choice of action, he knew just how he could get what he wanted if he just played his cards right. But he would have to prepare for it, kind of like he was going to battle himself, because his strategy had clearly not been sufficient the first time around. Making his way back towards his rooms in a hurry, Hashirama regained his rattled confidence. The more he thought about it the more he realised that if he did choose his words wisely, he might even catch two flies in one hand.

He stormed into his chamber like a man possessed, making his poor valet jump in surprise from where he’d been sorting through Hashirama’s work documents. Kosuke immediately made to bow to him, but Hashirama brushed his curtsies aside.

“I need to change, quickly – bring my red _ikan no hō_ , and my combs.”

Not questioning his prince’s strange mood, Kosuke hurried to comply, and helped Hashirama redress and tidy up his hair.

About half an hour later Hashirama slowly, measuredly paced, made his way through the corridor leading from the family quarters to the main audience chamber of the daimyo. Before entering the third outer chamber, he took a deep breath and straightened his spine, making an effort to look like the son his father expected to see, and ignoring the surprised looks he was receiving at his unexpected appearance. Hashirama strode right up to the main hall, as was his privilege as prince, and then waited to be announced to his father, as was custom.

“Come in, Hashirama,” the daimyo’s voice rang clear into the outer chamber, and as the ornate _fusuma_ were slid open for him, Hashirama stepped into the long, intimidating room.

The walls were painted lavishly, showing different landscapes that represented the regions of Fire Country, and the box ceiling was entirely covered in gold. Hashirama’s bare feet made no sound on the smoothly polished wooden floorboards as he approached the other side of the chamber, where the daimyo sat on a raised platform covered in thick _tatami_ mats which were bound in the royal colours. Behind him, large banners bearing the Senju clan crest were displaying his status, and his herald Utatane Tsugio was by his side, as per usual. Once he’d reached the accepted distance, Hashirama kneeled and prostrated to his father, which was just a tad more formal than strictly necessary, and therefore just what Butsuma liked best.

“Your son greets you, esteemed lord father,” Hashirama said, and kept his head lowered until Butsuma addressed him again.

“It is good to see you walking easily,” the daimyo said, and Hashirama sat up to settle himself more comfortably on his knees. “I trust you are healed?”

“As good as new,” Hashirama replied with a comely smile, the picture of political politeness, and was glad to see his father nod approvingly.

“Why are you here, Hashirama?” he asked, and Hashirama paused to answer until he could feel the fingertip of each of his fingers pressed against the silk clothing over his thighs.

“Your son would ask to be allowed to state a request, esteemed father.”

“A request?” Butsuma huffed, looking entirely unimpressed. “You think you are in a position to make requests after the shame you brought upon yourself, and the family?”

Bowing his head demurely, Hashirama took a deep breath and a leap of faith – he would have only one chance to convince his father of the appeal of his idea.

“Your foolish son seeks only to better himself, so he can adequately serve your highness and redeem himself,” he spoke carefully, and when the daimyo didn’t interrupt him, continued: “Esteemed father, your son humbly asks for your permission to learn the arts of warfare under the tutelage of general Uchiha Madara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess Hashirama is bringing out the big guns today...

**Author's Note:**

> A heartfelt thank you goes to all the kind, supportive people who I had the pleasure to meet in the HashiMada fandom, and who encouraged me to post this story. I am especially grateful to Canchuon for listening to me ramble about my ideas for countless nights - you are a saint!
> 
> Since this is my first published story here, please be kind! :)


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